


The Man Who Loved Death

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Reaper76 [51]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Regret, Second Chances, Time Travel, reaperson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 05:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16654912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Jack Morrison had never been afraid of death, and in time he came to love it. (Reaperson)





	1. Chapter 1

 

_Death._

   Jack had his first brush with death when he was just eight years old. He had been a wild child, the youngest of four and therefore given too much freedom, which coupled with the constant bite of having to compete with his older siblings had left him with a thirst to prove himself. A desire that when combined with his adventurous nature was bound to end in disaster sooner or later, although he doubted that any of them had expected it to happen so early, or to nearly kill him…

     There had been an old quarry a couple of miles from the farm, long since abandoned, it had become one of the most popular places for them to play and meet up with the kids from the neighbouring farms, helped by the fact that it was completely out of sight of any of the farms and therefore adult supervision. The adults knew where they were of course, and had introduced their own rules. After all, while most of the area was safe, there were deeper parts that were less safe, with sharp drops and old rusted machinery that had been left behind. As long as they stayed away from those places they were free to do as they pleased. Of course, saying that to a bunch of rough and tumble kids was never going to end well. Especially when his older brother John, who having now reached his teens was keen to lord it over the others especially Jack, had decided to make it a test of courage. Sharp blue eyes never leaving Jack’s face as he informed him that he would be a ‘baby’ forever if he didn’t do it.

     If there was ever a word that Jack had come to hate, it was ‘baby’. It reminded him of the visits from their grandmother who would still grab his cheeks and coo at him even though he was eight now, and of all the times he had been left behind by his siblings. Or worse left with a babysitter by his parents, because he was just too young for whatever they were going to do. At once he had bristled, his own blue eyes filled with the righteous indignation of the youngest child who was tired of being picked on, declaring in a soft, fierce voice that he was braver than the rest of them and that he would show them. Looking back, he should have known that the glint that entered John’s eyes at his words was a bad sign, but back then he had been bad at reading people.

     Maybe the challenge when it was issued should have been a warning as well. Right in the middle of the forbidden area was a deep crack that was known locally as Old Tom’s Drop, apparently named after one of the old farm hands who had got drunk and fallen over the edge to his death. Jack didn’t know if that was true or not, there were lots of wild tales that circulated around, although having witnessed the stupidity of some of their farmhands when they’d had a bit too much to drink he could believe it. It was this crack that he was supposed to climb down into and retrieve his favourite toy which John had helpfully thrown there to ‘motivate him’. If it had been anything else it probably wouldn’t have worked, but the action figure was one that had been brought just for him, rather than the usual hand-me-down toys he received, and he was reluctant to just abandon it.

     Standing on the edge of the crack though, he felt his courage beginning to fail him. It was a long way down, with steep walls of unsteady rock, and even as he watched a small chunk gave and tumbled down the sound seeming to last forever. And from where he was stood he could see several metal spikes sticking out from the rock face, and he gulped nervously, suddenly feeling as though maybe being the ‘baby’ wasn’t so bad. He might have turned away. He nearly did, but John had gathered the other kids, and they were all hooting and howling at him, taunting him and when he realised that even if his quietest brother James, just three years older was joining in, he knew that there was no backing out.

    Swallowing, he inched to the edge and turned, not letting himself look at the other kids as tried not to focus on the drop and rather on easing himself down, feeling about with his feet until he found what felt like a foothold. Wary, he put more of his weight on it, and when it didn’t cave beneath him, he risked a glance at the others, locking gazes with John again and grinning, some of his courage restored.

_I can do this…_

     Slowly and with a patience that his parents wouldn’t have thought him capable of most of the time he began to climb, relieved that the hoots and cat-calls from above had given way to silence as the others watched him. He risked a glance up and found them all peering down at him, some looking nervous and others surprised as though they had expected him to back down, and he grinned. Only to let out a frightened yelp a moment later when the ledge beneath his foot gave way, and he slipped a couple of feet before managing to stop himself, pressing his face to rocks as he fought to catch his heart.

“Jack come back!”

“Jack!”

      Apparently, his slip had scared his audience as well, but he didn’t let himself look at them, shaking his head fiercely before forcing himself to continue. His entire world had narrowed down to finding the next foothold, the next handhold, never daring to take his eyes off the rock in front of him, his heart still hammering from his earlier fall.

     Later he could never remember what had happened. Whether he had hit a weaker patch of rock, or if noise from above had distracted him. All he could remember was that one minute he had been climbing and the next moment he was falling. Terror gripped him, a shriek torn from his lips as he frantically tried to grab something, anything to stop the fall. He felt rock, and then something cooler and sharper, pain lancing through his arm, and then nothing but air, until he slammed into the ground a few seconds later. His voice cut off as the wind was forced from his lungs, agony racing through every part of his body and the last thing he remembered before the darkness claimed him was John’s voice, tiny at this distance screaming his name.

****

    It was that memory that flashed through Jack’s mind now as he lay, trying to conceal himself as best he could behind a crumbling wall, one hand pressed against the bullet wound in his side as he fought to stop himself from bleeding out. Back then the doctors had said that it was a miracle that he had survived. That if he had been any higher when he had fallen, or if he had landed differently and if John hadn’t run for help as quickly as he had then he would have died…

_He had woken nearly two days later to find himself in the hospital, his arm in a heavy cast and bandages wrapped around his head. Everything had hurt, and for once he hadn’t worried about being a baby, balling his eyes out and soaking up his mother’s hugs as she fought to soothe him. His brothers had been brought to visit, pale-faced and quieter than he could ever remember them being, each of them apologising, in turn, much to his confusion._

_It had been a week later when he was finally allowed home, although he was still restricted to his bed that he learnt why they had been so subdued. He had seen his parents furious before, had even been on the receiving end of it several times as he tested the limits, but this was different. There was fear, and some other nameless emotion behind their words as they scolded him, and his confusion must have shown because his mother had begun to cry. Shouting that he could have died and did he understand what that meant? Did he realise what it would have done to them if he had died?_

_He had understood. He had seen enough death on the farm to know there was no coming back, seen his aunt fall apart when her husband died. But they were wrong. He hadn’t been afraid of dying, or of the darkness that swept over him back then. It had felt warm and safe, but he hadn’t said that, sensing even at eight years old that, that would have been the wrong thing to say. Instead, he had ducked his head and apologised, promising to never do something so reckless again…knowing that he would and that he would meet that peaceful darkness again._

     He’d just rather that it wasn’t like this, surrounded by the fallen remains of his squad with the Omnics closing in on his position. He was eighteen, and he was going to die alone, abandoned as he had caught the order to retreat split seconds before the bullet had torn through him, sending him to the ground and a bitter chuckle caught in his throat. He didn’t fear death. He had never forgotten the feeling from back then, the sense of security in that all-encompassing darkness. Yet he couldn’t forget how his parents had yelled at him when he had signed up to the military, telling him that he was selfish and that he was going to get himself killed, begging him to stay on the farm. That would have been a fate worse than death in his mind, but he hated the thought that he was going to prove them right, even as he felt his grip on the wound beginning to slip, fingers slick with his own blood.

   A quiet noise caught his attention, and he instinctively reached for his weapon, doubting that he had the strength to pull the trigger right now, let alone lift it enough to aim. But the gesture made him feel better. Only to find himself stilling as dark boots came into sight, his breath catching for a moment as he lifted his head, a shiver working its way through him as he found himself staring into a bone-white mask.

_Death…_

    It wasn’t the first time he had spied this figure. Ever since he had been deployed he had been aware of it, always there on the periphery of the battle, never joining in. At first, he had thought that he was seeing things and tried to ignore it, but gradually he realised that it always drew closer when dead cluttered the floor, on both sides of the conflict. It didn’t matter who had fallen, old or young, military or civilian. The figure would be there, hovering over them. Stealing them away he realised later when he would stare into the faces of the fallen and realise that something was missing. Something more than mere life, something that left them as eerie, grey forms that looked anything but human. Some of the others had noticed its presence as well, recoiling, fearful whenever they spoke of it, but as always Jack was different. He felt oddly comforted by the fact that everyone was treated the same, that the figure that in his mind at least he had christened ‘Death’ was always there watching over them.  He just hadn’t expected to meet him personally quite so soon.

“You’re not afraid?” He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised when the figure spoke, the voice a low rasping growl that should have been frightening, but instead seemed to settle around him like a soothing blanket. He had a feeling that he was being studied, even if he could see little in the shadowed holes that made the mask’s eyes and gathering his strength he shook his head. “You should be.” There was something, a trace of emotion in the response. Irritation or amusement, he wasn’t quite sure. “You should be frightened of me, Jack Morrison.”

“How…?” He trailed off, cutting off what he considered a stupid question. Of course, Death knew the name of those it had come to collect, and he smiled, feeling more at ease at that realisation that he wasn’t just a nameless face. His eyes fluttered, and he realised that at some point his hand had fallen away from his wound, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, instead blinking and focusing blearily on the figure as a thought occurred to him. “Why didn’t I see you back then?”

“Back then? Jack, do you…?” He missed the rest of the question, white noise flooding his head as his vision blurred and darkened.

_I guess I am going to die…_

     Slowly he realised that rather than embracing him, the darkness was beginning to recede, the pain easing and blinking heavily he coaxed his eyes open again. Death was still there, crouched in front of him and watching him intently, but it was the device that lay between them that caught his attention. He recognised it, a biotic emitter, like the ones that had just been issued for testing a couple of weeks ago. But this one was different, sleeker, more advanced looking and rather than the weak, rather ineffectual blue light of the current ones, this one had a warm golden glow, and if he closed his eyes, he could feel it working.

“Why?” He croaked, wincing, wondering if he had been shouting or screaming at some point. Not understanding why he wasn’t dead, why Death was there if he wasn’t going to take him. “I thought I was going to die…and that, that was why you’re here.”

“So, did I.” Jack had a feeling that he wasn’t supposed to have caught the quiet growl, but he had, and he blinked, confused. _He was supposed to die?_ He didn’t understand, but before he could voice that thought Death moved, and despite himself he tensed, watching with wide eyes as he came closer and swallowing as a clawed hand settled on his shoulder. It felt so real. Death’s grip tightened for a minute and then it was gone, and when Jack turned his head it was just in time to see it fading away into the shadows, it’s body becoming mist and fading away completely, soft words lingering in its wake. “I’ll see you soon, Jack Morrison.”

**

     He had survived, with little more than a scar to show just how close he had come to death. He hadn’t mentioned his conversation with Death, because there had been too many worried eyes on him as it was, his entire squad was gone, and he was alive.

    It wasn’t the last time he saw Death though. Once he was cleared for duty again, he had returned to the field, and everywhere he went the dark figure followed, always keeping it's distant but there. Oddly enough Jack found it comforting rather than off-putting, although he sternly tried to put a lid on the thought that he wanted to talk to it…him…again, knowing that he would need to be close to death for that to happen and while he might not fear death, it didn’t mean he was in a rush to embrace it. It was hard though, acting as though everything was normal when he felt its gaze on him, sometimes even feeling a chill as though a tendril of mist had curled around him.

****

   The next time they actually spoke was a couple of years later. Jack had risen through the ranks, proving himself in the field and eventually earning an invitation to the SEP programme as the Omnic Crisis deepened. It was a risk, he had been warned from the beginning that it was highly experimental and that there was no guarantee that he would come out alive. He had signed on the spot. He didn’t fear death, and it was a chance to stand out. A chance to do something that his brothers hadn’t done and would never do, something that was exclusively his.

    He almost regretted it three months in as he lay twisting and turning in the narrow bed, teeth clenched to stop himself from crying out in pain, tears building in the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t sure what was worse. The feeling that his entire body was on fire, an inferno that had been building ever since the latest battery of injections and tablets that morning, the weight that seemed to have settled on his chest making him fight for each breath or the pain. A deep ache that had crept into every inch of his body a couple of hours ago, and was now slowly building until it felt like he was being pierced by those pieces of metal from the quarry. _It hurts…it hurts…_ There was no one here to see him cry, and he let the tears fall even as he rolled over, fighting back a whimper as the movement jostled his sore body and buried his face in the pillow.

_It hurt…_

    Part of him knew that he should call for help. His relationship with the man next door was still tentative at best, but he had made it clear that he would help if Jack needed it, but he didn’t move. There was something about Gabriel Reyes that reminded him of his older brothers, something about the watchful gaze that left feeling as though he was being judged and found wanting and as foolish as it was he wanted to prove himself. And so, he lay there, darkness creeping into his mind as the pain and heat continued to grow, threatening to sweep him away. Maybe he would be another of the failures, another number, another body that disappeared into the nothingness, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right then.

“Jack? Jack Morrison, answer me.” It took longer than it should have for the harsh voice to cut through the haze in his mind, and longer still for him to identify the rough growl, a shiver creeping down his back when he realised who was there. _Death…_ Slowly, feeling weaker than he ever had before he shifted, just enough so that he could turn his head and there he was, the familiar bone mask staring down at him.

“You came…” It was hard to force the words out, and there was more that he wanted to say, but he trailed off, shivering again. _Let me die…_

    Rather than ending it, Death moved, settling on the edge of the bed and studying him for a long moment. This gaze didn’t feel judging, but thoughtful, hesitant and so Jack waited, quiet but unafraid for Death to make up its mind, readying himself for that familiar dark embracing him. He was proven wrong again, after a moment Death growled under his breath, something that sounded like a curse and which seemed to be aimed more at itself than him.

“Why haven’t you asked for help?” It sounded genuinely confused, and Jack blinked wearily at him, before closing his eyes, not wanting to admit to his earlier thoughts. But there was a claw against his cheek now, tapping gently but incessantly until he opened his eyes again. “Answer me.” It was an order, snapped in such a way that it called to mind his commanding officers and despite himself he found himself drawing in a breath, gathering his strength.

“Need…to prove myself,” he whispered, the words sounding foolish to his own ears and still Death stared at him, clearly wanting something more, and he could feel colour seeping into his cheeks. ” And, I wanted to see you again…” He hadn’t admitted it to himself before that moment, but as soon as the words slipped out, he knew they were true. He had wanted to see Death, to feel it again. This time there was no mistaking that Death was cursing, both in English and what Jack recognised as Spanish after a moment, remembering all the times his neighbour had yelled at them in the same language, and he blinked startled by the shift, and by the fact that the cursing was definitely aimed at him this time.

    Death was still growling, muttering darkly under his breath as he moved and Jack couldn’t stop the soft noise of protest as it moved away. However, his protest faded when Death dissolved in front of his eyes, becoming a shifting, swirling cloud of mist and he was helpless to do anything but watch as the cloud swept forward and settled over him. It was cool, soothing against his overheated skin and he sighed with relief as it seemed to seep beneath his clothes, settling over him like a second skin. It was a couple of minutes before he became aware of another sensation, of tendrils gently kneading at his sore body, seeming to know which places that hurt worse. He had thought that the slightest touch would have been agonising, but this was good. There was pain, but not enough to make him pull away, and he closed his eyes. It wasn’t the same as the peaceful embrace he remembered from his fall, it was better, and he felt himself beginning to drift as Death started to murmur in his ear, harsh voice surprisingly soft as he whispered reassurances and the last thing he remembered hearing before he slipped under completely was Death making a quiet promise.

“I won’t let you die from this, Jack.”

**

     He pulled through the night, waking in the morning, disappointed to find himself alone but feeling much better than he had, albeit as weak as a kitten. A small part of him was worried that he might have imagined it all, but there was a lingering chill in the room, and when he gingerly forced himself out of bed it was to find a note on the table along with a strange device that looked halfway between a beetle and a bean. He poked it cautiously before reading the letter. **_Call me, if you need me. I won’t let you die from this._ **It was short and to the point, but it warmed him, more than it should have and he carefully folded the note and hid it away in the drawer, studying the device before slipping into his pocket once he was dressed.

_Death will come…_

   It was stupidly comforting, and there was a smile on his lips as he forced himself to head for breakfast, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep, but it was worth it to see the appraising look Gabriel shot him as they passed in the corridor, curious rather than judging, and his hand slipped down to his pocket.

_Thank you._

****

    He had seen Death intermittently after that, the dark figure always seeming to know when he was needed even before Jack could call for him. He would appear silently on the nights when Jack wished for death as his body threatened to fail him, holding him, encouraging him through the long nights of pain, of fevers that drained his strength and moments where dying would have been a mercy. They never spoke about it, and Jack was loathed to admit how much it meant to him, or how much he needed Death for fear that he would be abandoned, the device which he had yet to use a talisman that went everywhere with him when Death wasn’t there.

**

    Death was there the day he graduated from SEP, standing at the back and watching silently. Jack had a feeling that he wasn’t the only reason he was there that day, remembering the terse edge to Death’s voice when he had said that he would be there, and feeling the gaze burning into his back he wished that he had asked why he was coming. What it was about today or about SEP that put him on edge, wanting to do something to help the being who had helped him so much. Instead, all he could do was stand tall through the speeches and pomp, his mind far from the pretty words, but back on those long nights spent wrapped up in a cold embrace.

    The ceremony had just ended, and they had been dismissed, ordered to rest for a few days while they waited for their assignments when he felt a chill wind at his back, an arm around his shoulder before a harsh voice ghosted against his ear.

“I hope you make better choices this time, Jack…”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written as a collaboration with the amazing Tomoyo, and you can see the art they did for it here: https://twitter.com/Pititoune/status/ 897423356697473024

_This time._

     Jack hadn’t asked what Death had meant by that on the day, too caught up in the excitement of actually surviving SEP and the prospect of getting back into the field, but the words stayed with him, weighing on his mind late at night when his thoughts were free to wander. _This time? What choices?_ Curiosity was eating at him because while he had made his fair share of poor choices, the quarry flashing through his mind once more, he couldn’t bring himself to regret them. After all, those were the choices that had forced him to grow, to learn, to become someone who might stand a chance of bringing the Crisis to an end. But now, as he lay there with Death’s gravelly voice replaying through his mind and sleep eluding him, he couldn’t help but wish that he had asked.

     What made it worse was that it was nearly four months since he’d last had a chance to speak with Death, and while the shadow was still there, always at the edge of his vision it was never close enough to talk to. SEP had made him stronger, faster, more durable and even as the Crisis seemed to deepen by the day, the changes he and the other survivors had undergone not making war any easier, it had made him less vulnerable.  Less in need of Death’s protection. It gave him fewer chances to see Death, to ask him what the hell he had meant with those cryptic words and that meant he had to get creative.

   Or rather stupid, his mind supplied a couple of weeks later when he found himself having to drag himself into the shelter of what had once been a school, its windows long since blown out and half of its structure reduced to rubble during multiple battles between the Omnics and the military. He had intended to get injured, to force Death to come out of hiding and speak to him, but as he inched further into the building on trembling hands, blood staining his side, he couldn’t help but think he had been a little too effective. Was this the mistake he was supposed to have avoided? It was a bit too late now he thought with a slightly choked laugh, pressing a trembling hand against his side even though he had a feeling that it was too little too late.

   His vision was blurring, and he would’ve pulled himself onto the unexploded Bastion shell in his path if there hadn’t suddenly been clawed hands on his shoulder, stopping him. His vision wavered and threatened to white out for a moment as agony lanced through him at the abrupt stop, but he could make out enough to recognise the distinctive mask, and he relaxed, letting Death ease him over to the side, groaning as he was moved until his back was resting against the wall. He had a feeling that was the only thing keeping him upright right now as the hands had disappeared from his shoulder, leaving him feeling strangely bereft, a feeling that was eased a little by the concern that he could hear behind the irritation in Death’s voice.

“What were you thinking?”

“Wanted to…” It was harder to talk that he had expected it to be and there was a spark of real fear as he realised that he had really miscalculated, that the wound was more serious that he had thought, blood seeping between his fingers. His grip tightened on the wound even though he knew it wouldn’t be enough, hoping that he could at least buy enough time to ask the questions that had constantly been playing through his mind since graduation. “T-talk to you…”

“You could have called for me.”

“B-broken.” Jack had been dismayed to realise the gift that Death had given had been destroyed, finding it in pieces in his pocket after a mission, heart hammering in his chest as he realised that the tiny device had helped stop the bullet that had caught him that day. Blinking, he pouted up at the dark figure leaning over him. “Even I’m not that…stupid.”

     There was a moment of silence, and he had a feeling that he was being evaluated, that his words intended as a weak joke had accidentally brushed against something deeper. Something painful. He wiggled, trying to push himself up so that he could face the other man, only to find clawed hands tightening on him, holding him in place. “Stop moving.” It was more the strength of the grip than the quiet warning that made him obey because he knew his own strength, knew that even with the blood spilling from his side that he should be able to pull out of a normal grip, but this was Death. He shook his head, regretting it when his vision faded out for a moment. Groaning softly as he shut his eyes, waiting for the world to settle once more and when he eventually managed to coax his eyes open again it was to find the strange biotic emitter on the ground next to them, its light already getting to work on his injuries and he stared at the soft light, jolting when Death spoke ago. “What did you want to talk about?”

_He was going to get answers?_

   For a moment, he was so startled and so caught up in the sensation of his side slowly knitting itself back together that he couldn’t speak, staring wide-eyed at Death. It was a low growl, just on the right side of threatening that had him finding his voice, swallowing thickly. “What you said back then?” He caught the way that Death stiffened at the reminder of what had happened, momentarily distracted by such a human response before he glanced away, feeling strangely sheepish as he admitted softly. “I don’t understand…” There was no response, and he risked a glance out of the corner of his eye as the hands fell away from him once more, Death inching back, putting some distance between them and it seemed to Jack that he was upset or maybe perturbed, as though he hadn’t expected Jack to actually ask about it.

“You weren’t meant to,” Death finally replied, still not looking at him, his face turned up and away as though he was staring at some distant point before his shoulders seemed to slump. “I probably shouldn’t have given you that warning.” Slowly he turned to look at Jack, studying him for a moment before he added softly. “I’m sorry.”

“But…”

“Enough.” Jack found his mouth snapping shut at the quiet command, and sucking in a sharp breath as claws brushed against his cheek. For the first time, it felt like a threat although the touch was as gentle as always, and he felt a faint quiver of fear as he stared at Death. Death noticed his wide-eyed gaze and growled before pulling away. “I shouldn’t have said anything, but…just the fact that you would go this far to ask, to find out the truth. You’re already different.” _From what?_ Jack wanted to ask, sensing that he wasn’t supposed to have heard that last bit as Death’s voice had dropped to a low whisper, but something told him not to ask, and instead, he filed the words away, letting his eyes close as he leant back against the wall.

    He must’ve dozed off, the wound taking its toll even as it healed and when he woke it was to find himself alone once more and at first, it looked as though there was no sign that Death had even been there, leaving him feeling strangely bereft for a moment. It was only when he moved, forcing himself back to his feet that he felt the weight in his pocket, fingers trembling as he reached inside, feeling some unpleasant clenching in his stomach as he found one of the biotic emitters that Death carried and another of the tiny devices that would call Death to him. Whilst the latter gave him hope, he found his gaze lingering on the biotic emitter, feeling as though something had shifted between them during that conversation, something that he didn’t understand and it took him a moment to realise that it was fear curling in the pit of his stomach, fingers curling around the emitter.

_What mistakes?_

_How have I changed?_

****

    The days came and went, the Crisis seeming to worsen by the day despite their best efforts. Jack had thought that he knew what war was like, but the endless grind against the Omnics was nothing like he had experienced before, and for all the enhancements he had been given it was wearing him down. Maybe not physically, as he found himself bouncing back from injuries that would put a ‘normal’ soldier out of action for days if not weeks, but mentally, emotionally. It didn’t help that what free moments he was able to snatch between fights were spent mulling over Death’s words and their encounters, fanned by the careful distance that Death had been keeping since their last meeting. The shadow was still there, following him wherever he went and more than once he was sure that Death had directly shielded him from attacks, but when he looked the only evidence he could find was the odd tendrils of mist that seemed to linger in his wake.

“You’re not what I expected.” Jack was drawn out of his thoughts, glancing up from his food that he had slowly been mashing into an unpalatable mess to find that Gabriel Reyes had claimed the seat opposite him. He tensed for a moment at the sight of the other man. The judging gaze from their SEP days had disappeared soon after they had entered the field, but while they were getting on better than they had been, there was still something about Gabriel that set him on edge. He didn’t know what to make of the appraising gaze he was currently on the receiving end of, or the words that had preceded it and eventually he settled for a soft grunt as he turned his attention back to his food. Not exactly discouraging, but leaving up to Gabriel if he wanted to pursue the conversation. Hoping that he wouldn’t, or that at least he would get to the point so that Jack could get back to his own thoughts. “You don’t like me much, do you, Morrison?”

“I don’t know you.” _I thought that was my line…_ He had tried reaching out at first, when they were all new in SEP and waiting to find out just what they had signed themselves up for, but beyond a quick grin and exchange of names there had been nothing, and he had let it be. Quickly consumed by the demands of the program and later with his meetings…friendship, whatever, you could call it with Death. Silence greeted his words, and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing up. “What?”

“Nothing.” It clearly wasn’t nothing, and for a brief second, Jack felt like he couldn’t breathe, because there was something about that flat tone, about the way he’d just been shut down that reminded him of that last conversation with Death. He couldn’t stop his eyes from darting to Gabriel’s hands where they were locked around his mug, half expecting to see claws and not sure whether he was relieved or disappointed to be met with normal, human fingers. “Morrison?” Of course, Gabriel had noticed his sudden fascination with his fingers, and he flushed shrinking back in his seat, shaking his head.

“Sorry, I’m just tired…” There was no way he was going to explain to Gabriel what he had been looking for because while he was certain that the others saw Death when he was following them, they all seemed to have dismissed it from their minds. It was never spoken about, and there was no way he was going to be the one to break that, let alone admit that he spent time talking to Death and even actively seeking him out. Somehow, he had a feeling that would see him a fast track to medical and possibly out of the field, although with how few of them had survived SEP maybe they would leave him in the field under tight reins. Reins that wouldn’t let him see Death or get the answers he was still desperately seeking. No, better to say nothing and make Gabriel think he was a little bit odd if the quizzical look he was being given was any indication, but then Gabriel sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I think that sums up the situation,” he muttered, glancing around and Jack couldn’t help but follow his gaze, taking in the slumped figures around them and the lack of chatter in the air and realising that he was right. They were all feeling the strain, and he had been so caught up with Death and his strange statements and warnings that he hadn’t noticed, something, guilt maybe building in the pit of his stomach. “Get some rest while you can, Morrison.” It was almost gentle, and once again Jack’s thoughts skittered towards Death, remembering the long nights of SEP when his unexpected carer had got him through the worst, and it was a fight to stop himself from staring at Gabriel, instead settling for a short jerk of his head and hoping that would be enough. Apparently, it was enough because the table rocked lightly a moment later and when he finally looked up again the other man was already leaving the tent.

    He huffed out a sigh of relief and yet he couldn’t stop his gaze from following Gabriel until he was out of sight, even as his hand slipped down to his pocket where Death’s gift sat. _What is going on?_ Since they’d been sent into the field, he’d had numerous exchanges with Gabriel, mainly barked orders and relayed information, but not once had he found himself comparing the two. Death had always been a comfort, whereas Gabriel had been a threat, and yet now, he couldn’t help but shake the feeling that they were similar. That he was missing something, and he snorted at that last thought because that seemed to be the story of his life at the moment.

_Another thing to add to the list…_

****

_Death._

_Gabriel._

_Death._

     Jack wished that Gabriel had never come to sit with him that day, because now whenever his thoughts strayed to death and the warnings that he still didn’t understand, he found the other man entering his thoughts as well. It wasn’t helped by the fact that more than once he had spied Gabriel watching him when they were in the field. The shadow in the corner of his eye telling him that Death was there as well and he couldn’t help but feel that he was caught between the two of them, suspended by a web of unanswered questions and doubts. Whereas the shadow had always been a comfort before, reassuring him that there was always someone watching his back even when he was on his own, it now left an uneasy itch between his shoulders.

    More than one evening had been spent toying with Death’s gift, debating with himself whether to call for him and to try and get the answers that he needed. But he found himself chickening out every time, slipping the device away unused, spending the night in uneasy sleep.

    Work became a blessed relief. He didn’t care how mundane the task was, how desperate the combat became because as long as he was busy, he could keep the thoughts at bay. At least a little, because he could never entirely banish Death’s warning from his graduation. _I hope you make better choices this time…_ the words seemingly having sunk under his skin and imprinted themselves there where he couldn’t get rid of them, and he found himself weighing every decision he made, the recklessness and thirst he’d always harboured to prove himself bolted away. Because what if this choice was the one that Death was talking about? What if he made the wrong decision there? He hated it, missing the days when he had been able to just act, and he could feel everything winding itself into a dark knot in his chest.

_Which choice? Which decision?_

_What if I’ve already made the mistake…_

****

    The shadow wasn’t there. Jack hadn’t noticed at first, too busy trying to escape his thoughts, the knot in his chest tighter than ever as he was working with Gabriel as they scouted around the edge of a town that had been reported to be under Omnic control and yet so far seemed to have been wholly abandoned. At least their current task gave little leeway for idle chatter, both tensing at the slightest sound. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d been caught in an ambush, the Omnics seemingly learning from each and every encounter and Jack couldn’t help but compare that with their own limited development. Sure they’d had victories, but they were hard-won, and he just knew that they needed to find something new if they wanted to win the war, he just didn’t know what, and he had a feeling that if they didn’t find it soon, then it would be too late.

Maybe it already was.

    Despite the lack of Omnics, there was also a lack of life, and there was a sinking feeling in his stomach as they passed what had been a nursery before the war had reached the town. He knew that some people would have escaped, had seen the camps that were springing up in areas where the military had control, for now, had spent hours labouring to make them as secure and liveable as possible, knowing that it wasn’t enough. He also knew that those people only represented a small percentage of those caught up in this mess, and looking at the destruction around them, taking in the evidence of Bastion fire littering many of the walls he knew that most had not been so lucky.

“Morrison?” He jumped as Gabriel’s voice crackled in his ear, looking up to see the other man had paused as well and was glancing over at him and he bit back a curse, once again wondering how he had ended up being partnered with him. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, moving forward again even as he muttered a reply.

“Clear.”

    Maybe that was the mistake, that moment of distraction, letting his thoughts wander and trying to stave of Gabriel’s concern. There was only the faintest noise, the sound of rubble falling in a neighbouring building, something they had heard all morning, but whereas before Jack had instantly responded to the sound, this time there was a moment of hesitation, a falter in his step as he turned, automatically signalling to Gabriel.

Then there was fire.

    A sick, burning fire that blossomed first in his shoulder and then his side and leg. _Where was Death?_ For the first time, he realised that there was no dark shadow in sight, no tendrils wrapping around the Omnic emerging from the building and for a second terror gripped him, freezing him place, and he felt a fresh burn across his cheek. _No._ The knot in his chest was growing, choking him, and yet at the same time, it broke him free from his terror and even as he swayed his fingers tightened on the trigger of his gun and he opened fire. He had no idea if he was hitting his target, his vision little more than a blur of colours now, but he was aware of another gun roaring to life behind him. _Death? No, not Death…_ he blinked trying to clear his vision, catching a glimpse of Gabriel as the other man surged in front of him. _Gabriel…_

    He could smell pulse emissions, realising that he must have released his rockets at some point, but then he was falling. His body unable to hold itself upright anymore, and he was vaguely aware of the cry that was dragged from his lips as he hit the ground hard, instinctively curling up to protect himself as he heard more gunfire being exchanged, biting his bottom lip as the fire spread across his skin, higher and higher until everything else had faded.

_I screwed up…_

Time passed, feeling like hours as he waited for the approaching darkness to claim him, as he waited for Death to appear and claim him like he had been supposed to all those months ago. However, instead of the familiar claws, he was finally drawn back to the present by warm fingers on his shoulders, gently trying to uncurl him, drawing a whimper from him despite his best efforts to silence it. He didn’t fear Death…he didn’t…it didn’t sound as convincing as it had back then, the knot in his chest making it impossible for him to shake off his doubt and he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears burning in their corners. He was dying, and he was afraid…

“Damn it, Morrison!” _Death?_ Despite himself, he jerked at the shout, forcing his eyes open although it took a moment of heavy blinking for him to bring the world into the slightest bit of focus, dismay flooding him when instead of the familiar white mask, he found himself staring into Gabriel’s face. It was blurry, more a shapeless colour and yet he could still tell that it was twisted, although whether it was anger or concern he couldn’t make it out. It wasn’t Death. The knot tightened again, and he let his eyes begin to drift shut again, only to jerk when Gabriel shook him, sending fresh fire through his shoulder even as he shouted at him. “STAY AWAKE!” Something forced Jack to obey, although the effort exhausted him, eyes immediately threaten to droop despite his efforts, and he heard Gabriel cursing under his breath before he heard a hiss of static as Gabriel called for help. “MEDIC!”

_Medic. Gabriel._ If he got out of this mess, it wasn’t going to be because of Death, and right now, with his chest labouring as he struggled to draw in enough air, the world fading around him once more, he doubted that he was going to survive this. And still, there was no sign of Death. Just as there hadn’t been all those years ago in the bottom of the quarry when he had felt death creeping up on him. The tears were falling now, the knot growing.

He was dying, and Death wasn’t here.

“He didn’t come….” The words slipped out before he could stop them, but he was too tired, too broken to care and he didn’t notice how Gabriel had stiffened at his words. Didn’t even know that the other man had heard him until there was suddenly gentle fingers…fingers not claws…against his uninjured cheek, tapping lightly to get his attention.

“Morrison?” Jack didn’t respond, it wasn’t the right name. That wasn’t the name he was supposed to be hearing now. Gabriel muttered something but then the fingers were back, just as gentle as before, and his voice this time was soft, pleading.  “Jack? Jack, what are you talking about?” Jack blinked, slow and heavy, trying to make out the figure above him, another tear escaping as once more there was no white mask above him…and yet he had been called Jack…something tugged at him, and he found himself answering even as he spiralled downwards as he lost his tentative hold on consciousness.

“Death…”

 


End file.
